Passing Notes
by Riley Hearth
Summary: Ahh, another day of boredom comes and goes in the class of Mr. Rivers. Could Douglas Mordecai find a way to make it a bit more entertaining? No Pairings.


Resting his elbow on the desk and his head in his hand, jotting down quick ideas for inventions and anything else that came to mind, Dexter was the very vision of boredom. As Mr. Rivers droned on about this or that, all Dexter heard was distant, murmured strings of sound; as if the source came from underwater. There was a brief pause, and a higher pitch said something. The usual baritone responded, and resumed.

Dexter leaned back in his chair, eyes half lidded as he crossed out the rough sketching of a bug-like carrier* he'd thought of (just for the heck of it). He tapped his pencil lightly against the edge of the desk- too softly to be heard by anyone else, but the motion was there. He sunk down into his chair, slouching. The act itself cried 'desperate' when it came from the perfectly-postured redhead. The room drifted into a haze as he let his eyes become unfocused, his movements (if he moved at all) far more sluggish.

His attention was caught by a small triangle of folded notebook paper landing on his desk with a bounce. He leaned up slightly, discreetly sliding the paper back until it was in his grasp and off the desk. Burrowing himself deeper into his chair, the genius unfolded the note under the table and glanced at its contents.

_"You look bored"_ it read, in spidery handwriting he could recognize blindfolded after all these years.

He grinned, white teeth flashing, and snatched up his pencil. Glancing at Mr. Rivers he did so (the mustached man hadn't noticed a thing), he wrote a reply. Turning around in his chair slightly once the teacher had gone to the other side of the room, he flicked the note back to Douglas.

The brunette clamped down on it, hiding behind his book as he unfolded it and scanned the message.

_"I am; painfully so. And you?"_

Scribbling a message and watching Mr. Rivers with the eyes of a hawk, he tossed it back.

_"Dying. But, at least it's last period- and Thursday! One day left."_

Dexter's response was a simple _"Very true."_

As Mordecai began to write something, Rivers' hand paused mid-word on the chalk board and his stiffened. Before you could blink, Doug had covered the note with a full sheet of random thoughts and reminders to himself, which he made appear as a full sheet of notes by hunching over them and looking deep in thought. Dexter had 'immersed' himself in the nearest open copy of the book their teacher was sighting. With a confident nod and a proud smile at his students (a quarter of which were asleep, half goofing-off and the other quarter skipping class) he turned back to the out-dated chalk board.

Taking full advantage of this, Mordecai returned to writing the note, and then flicked it over to Dexter, who had to snatch for it as it flew over his head. Clicking his pencil, he opened it to read its newest contents.

_"Whew! That was __**close**__. Oh, hey. How's that new rocket-motorcycle-thingymajigger coming?"_

Dexter scrawled his reply,_"The prototypes are coming along quite well, I am pleased to say. Would you like to come home with me after school and have a few good test runs?"_

Douglas blinked several times upon reading this, before rolling his eyes good-naturedly and writing back: _"…Dex, you SERIOUSLY don't get out much if you honestly have to ask me that."_

_"So I'm taking that as a 'yes.'"_ Young genius replied.

_"For the record",_ the freckled boy grinned mischievously as he wrote, "_either you name one of those gadgets of yours the 'Dexter-monator', or __**I**__ will! And don't think I'm kidding. I'm not."_

_You wouldn't dare._ Was broadcasted through, not writing, but narrowed blue eyes once they looked up from the note to meet the chipper smirk of the other. Though he fixed his friend with a steady glare, it was obviously an empty threat.

_Watch me,_ hazel eyes jested right back.

'If I'm stuck in the "Dextermonator", God as my witness, you will be riding in the "Mordecai Machine".' The shorter of the two mouthed silently, raising shock red eyebrow as he spoke. ..Mouthed.

'Cool it, hothead!' Mordecai sniggered quietly

Dexter turned, mouth moving though words were indistinguishable.

Mordecai cocked his head to the side questioningly, eyes wide and amused as he mouthed 'Sorry, didn't catch that?'

'I said I SURE AM GLAD CLASS IS ALMOST OVER.' Dexter replied, moving his mouth in a very animated fashion, putting a ridiculous amount of stress on making each word legible.

Douglas grinned toothily and nodded his agreement, obviously a tad excited to play with some dangerous prototype flying motorcycle that had weaponry and lasers on it. Wording this to Dexter, his redheaded smirked and silently jested 'Sometimes I wonder if you only like me for my toys!'

At this point their conversation was getting pretty obvious. Well, if someone had cared to look, that is. Everyone- teacher included- was off in their own little world, counting the seconds until the bell rang.

Douglas chuckled lightly at the accusation, and countered with 'Naa. We met when we were, what..' he gestured vaguely with his hand, rolling his wrist, 'five years old..? You didn't even have the lab yet!'

Dexter shrugged, inclining his head slightly as if to acknowledge giving the other a point.

Mordecai waited until the ten second countdown to the end of class had started before continuing at normal volume, "…your mother just had the best lemon bars ever."

"Hey!"

"Ha!"

At that moment, the bell rang and everyone was sent into a mad dash to gather their things and exit the learning facility. Mordecai swung his bag onto his shoulder and bounded from the room on his long, gangly legs, cackling like a madman. Dexter ran after him and as students cleared a path for the sprinting nerds, his Russian lilt was heard calling something about "-only getting shotgun now!!"


End file.
